Custer chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, Black Hills, D.T. [S.D.]) 1880-1890, 1887-12-03

shot cut in battle that was more beau
tiful than any two eyes that had passed
without injury. / have seen an old
missionary worn out with the malaria
of African jungles who looked to me
more radiant than n rubicuEd gymnast.
| have seen a mother after six weeks
watching over a family of children
down with scarlet fever, with a glory
around her pale and wan face that sur
passed the angelic. 1t all depends on
how you got your sickness and in what
battle your wounds. Frederick T..
Frelinghuysen, the pride of New Jer-
sey-aye of the nation-and one
Of the pillars of the Christian
church, and for nearly four years prac-
tically president of the United States,
although in the Office of secretary of
state, in his determination to make
peace with all the governments on this
American continent, wore himself out,
and while his brain was as keen as it
yer Was, and his heart beat AS regu-
larry as ii ever did, he was according
to the bulletin of his physicians at
Washington and Newark, dying of
hardening of the liver. Satan who
does not like good men, sent n dart
through his liver. The last my dear
friend-for he was my friend and my
fathers friend before me-the last lie
was seen in Washington was in the
presidents carriage leaning his head
against the shoulder of the president on
his way to the depot to take the train
to 90 home to die. Martyr of the pub.
lie service, he died for his country
though he died in time of peace. In
his earlier life he was called
the nephew OF his uncle
THEODORE FRELINGHUYsEN,
but he lived to render for God and his
country a service that will make others
proud to be his nephew, and which
will keep his name on the scroll of his
tory rs the highest style of Christian
statesman that this century or any
other century has produced. My Lord
and my God! if We must get sick and
worn out, let it be in Thy service and in
the effort to make the world good and
happy. Not in the service of sin. No!
No! One of the most pathetic scenes
that | ever witnessed and | often see it,
is that of men and women converted in
the fifties or sixties or seventies want
ing to be useful, but they SO served the
world and satan in the earlier part of
their life that they have no physical
energy left for the service of God.
They sacrificed nerves, muscles, lungs,
heart and liver on the wrong altar.
They fought on the wrong side, and
now, when their sword is all hacked
up and their ammunition all gone, they
enlist for Emmanuel. When the high
melted cavalry horse, which that man
spurred into many a cavalry charge
with champing bit and flaming eye and
neck clothed with thunder, is worn out
and spawned ard ring-boned and
spring-halt. he rides up to the great
Captain of our Salvation on the white
horse and offers his services. When
such persons might have been through
the good habits of a lifetime crashing
the battle axe through
HELMETED UEIQUITIES,
they are spending their days and nights
in discussing the best way Of breaking
up their indigestion, and quoting their
jangling nerves, and rousing their lag
gard appetite, and trying to extract the
dart from their outraged liver. Better
converted late than never! Oh, yes;
tor they will get 10 heaven.